Dreams Never Die But The Dreamers Just Might
by HalfASlug
Summary: Amy looks at the stars and Rory looks at Amy.


_A/N: This fic owes a lot to_ 'Baby Come On' _by +44. By that I mean I heard the song and got this image of the Ponds and then robbed a couple of the lyrics. Rating is for one swear and mentions of attempted suicide. So not the happiest fic I've ever written but hey._

_Disclaimer: I'm not the BBC. Except that one time I was. Though I'm pretty sure that never happened._

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It's a couple of streets away, sitting on a road sign and staring at the heavens that Rory eventually finds her. The deep thump of the music from the party can still be heard from here which isn't in any way surprising as nothing else happens in Leadworth past eleven o'clock.

For a moment Rory lets himself believe that Amy was easy to find because she is waiting for him but he drops that thought soon enough. It's dangerous to hope he's important enough to her to be remembered at times like this and he knows better now. He should know better. It wasn't like he could've stayed at the house party anyway. He was only invited because Amy was, and she was only invited because everyone knows if she wears a short enough skirt the bloke at the offie forgets to ID her.

It's a flawed system but it's the only one the kids at school have so they make do. Cheap cider is apparently a decent compromise for having Amy Pond's geeky mate there.

The soft breeze carries the sound of Amy's sigh and Rory looks up at the clear sky that fascinates her so much. The moon looks almost orange as it dominates the scene but he can still make out the odd clusters of stars, constellations that he can't name but Amy can recite in her sleep.

Not for the first time Rory wonders which came first: Amy's interest in the stars or the mythical man who promised to show them to her. He hopes it's the former as he wants a part of Amy he loves not to be tied up in the Raggedy Doctor and to simply come from her.

"Did you want to go home, then?" he calls out, his voice sounding weak and unnatural in the night air. "It's still going on. The party, I mean. Mels said something about finding Jake's parents' wine stash. Y'know, if you wanted? It's fine if you don't. Obviously," he laughs awkwardly. "Why wouldn't it be fine? So yeah... If you want?"

She doesn't answer and he doesn't blame her. It's not like he managed to ask her a straightforward question.

"C'mere, Rory."

It's not a request but it never is and Rory still follows obediently.

The wood of the sign is cold and he feels it through his best jeans. Rory considers offering her his jacket but the words sound lame and old fashioned in his head and he can't see Amy accepting it even though she has goosebumps all up her folded arms. Instead he says nothing but wishes one day that she will think being old fashioned is cool and lets him be the gentlemen he's sure he could be.

Amy looks at the stars and Rory looks at Amy, both of them dreaming about the things they will never reach but can't stop thinking about regardless.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rory ventures because prolonged silences make him uneasy and he isn't cool enough to pull them off like she is.

She shakes her head, still lost in space somewhere.

A few moments pass until she finally moves, bending down to retrieve a clear plastic cup from the floor, pulling a face at the small amount of liquid left in it.

"I think," she says slowly before seeing her drink off, "I'm out of alcohol."

The cup is dropped and forgotten. It will be tutted at tomorrow morning by Mrs Fisher but Rory is more concerned by the closed off expression on Amy's face than a pensioner's wrath.

"I think you've had enough," he tells her knees. He was aiming to sound both authoritative and relaxed but, like everything else that emerges from his mouth, it just sounds unsure.

She looks at him now and he forces himself to meet her gaze. They are both remembering the last time she got drunk a few weeks ago, with Mels and a few lads off the football team, at the pub in the next village over. Neither of them acknowledges it though. Rory still feels nauseous when he remembers telling her he was staying in that night. GCSEs and all that. Important stuff, or at least it was at the time.

Twelve hours later, he was sat by her hospital bed, waiting for her test results. She told him she didn't remember ingesting the medication the doctors had pumped from her stomach and he said he believed her. Their eyes had a very different conversation, one he is terrified to have aloud even now.

"Okay, boss," she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Wouldn't want the fun police showing up."

He tries to smile, he really does, but he sees a sixteen year old girl who is beautiful in every way and wants to destroy it all. It makes no sense, makes him angry and sad and frightened and he wishes she had someone better than him to lean on.

"Anyone say anything after I left?" she asks with a shrug that only ruins the nonchalant tone she is trying to set.

"No. Not really."

The implication of his words makes her scoff.

Trish had said that all the psychiatrists had finally paid off. Connor had laughed and added that it was a good thing because there weren't many left. Nadine then said something about ODing that Rory didn't catch as he was already halfway out the door, but Mels must have as she punched her as Rory left the house.

Amy doesn't need to know any of it. She has been hearing it for years.

"I feel like Judas," she mumbles then frowns. "No - wait. The other bloke. Peter?"

"Not really," Rory reasons. "You only denied him once."

Amy gives him a confused look that is exaggerated by her drunken state. "How many times did Peter do it, then?"

"You'd know if you didn't wag R.E every week."

"R.E's boring."

"We still have an exam next month."

Amy exhales loudly. She loves learning and knowledge but hates school, Rory knows. Give her a museum or art gallery and she'll smile and bounce. Ask her to spend six hours with people she calls friends and catches laughing at her behind her back and she's down the shops with Mels and a cone of chips.

"Three," Rory answers her almost forgotten question. "He denied him three times."

Amy nods and Rory tries not to think of the implications of comparing the bloody Doctor to the Son of God.

"In that case," Amy sniffs, "I do believe in the Doctor. I believe in him and his blue box. I believe he is in it and flying up there somewhere and he is coming back for me."

Her eyes fill with tears that don't fall and she keeps them defiantly open and skyward. She doesn't sound as sure as she did all those years ago and she only ever says these things to him anymore, and only when she's upset. Rory doesn't know what hurts him more; that she is so willing to believe in this phantom who broke her heart or that she is losing faith in one of the few things that made her smile.

How can a psychiatrist begin to grasp the wonderful being that is Amelia Pond in weekly hour long sessions? Who are they to think they can understand her, let alone fix her? She isn't broke, she's different, and they have no right to change her.

The anger that courses through him and the shiver that passes over her make him put his arm around her. He only relaxes when she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I hate this fucking town," she grits out. "Everyone is stuck here and it's like they don't care."

Her language shocks him but he recovers. It's not like he's never heard her swear before, just never when it's only the two of them. "What's wrong with here?"

"Wasting away with the world's crappiest duck pond and the weirdo who hangs around Spar?" she laughs. "It's suffocating. I-I need to leave. Run away."

"You can't. You've got all your exams-"

Rory knows he's said the wrong thing when she lifts her head to look at him sadly and he wants to take it back. He only said it in a desperate attempt to make her stay. If she ever leaves then he'll be left behind. It isn't Leadworth without her.

"Oh, Rory," she sighs in that way he hates and loves equally. "You don't get it, do you?"

He doesn't react because he doesn't know how and his senses are clogged with her perfume.

"You see a lovely village and I see hell. You see a wall and stay put, I see something to climb over," she whispers. "It's why I love you, you know. This whole place is insane and it doesn't seem to notice. You make it all normal."

Again Rory is silent but mainly because he stopped breathing at the word 'love'. If she meant it the way he wants her to then it wouldn't have been said so casually. The walls she spoke about are closing in on him and for a moment he thinks he understands.

"Take me away from here." Her voice is almost indistinguishable from the rustling leaves, hidden underneath so much defeat that it can't have been Amy Pond who spoke. "I don't want to stay here and become another one of those people. Don't let me."

As she was speaking she edged closer to him and now all Rory can see is her pleading eyes and the loneliness they usually make such a good job of concealing.

"You and me, yeah?"

His answer, that is always going to be yes when she looks like that, is caught in his mouth when her lips press against his.

There should be fireworks and faraway singing but it's all wrong. Rory is struggling to stay balanced on the sign. All he can taste is salty tears, vodka and coke and none of that is what kissing Amy Pond should be about.

"Amy, no," he says as he pulls away. They blink at each other. Neither was expecting him to break the kiss. "This isn't - this isn't right."

Her eyes widen and Rory only just stops himself from not caring about everything that is important and kissing her anyway. It isn't fair that he is being tested like this. Any other boy from their year would probably be trying to cop a feel by this point and he tries to take comfort in knowing he's better than that.

Why does it have to feel so much like losing though?

"Rory, I'm... I'm so sorry." She shakes her head in disbelief, as though her mind has only just caught up with her actions. "I shouldn't have done that. That was - I'm drunk, I mean, that's no excuse but - gah, I'm sorry."

Rory has no idea what expression he is meant to be wearing and he doubts she will remember whatever one is currently on his face come morning anyway.

"Look, I know you're, well, you know-"

He doesn't.

"And that's fine. Completely fine. I don't care. You're Rory."

He wishes for one night that he isn't.

"And I was out of order and I'm so sorry."

So is he.

"So... Are we okay?"

He says yes with a jerk of a nod even though it isn't okay. It is so far from okay. Kissing Amy isn't supposed to be this, she isn't supposed to be drunk and running away from her so called mates questioning her past. She definitely isn't supposed to apologise so bloody much afterwards.

Kissing Amy is that dream he has while he's awake that he allows to be perfect because he knows it will never really happen. He can picture any scenario, with any script and it's okay because reality and rejection will never soil it.

But, as with everything else, the Raggedy Doctor stole the show and ruined it all.

A normal house party that she is only allowed to attend because Rory has promised her aunt he will look after her. Something as mundane as that. One of the older girls asks if she is still waiting for her Doctor and for the first time Amy lies and says she isn't. The chain reaction begins and leads them to the corner of the street and a stupid mistake Amy will dismiss and Rory will treasure though he knows he shouldn't.

It's been years since Rory stopped caring if the Doctor is real or not. It doesn't matter. He is a shadow at best and little Rory Williams still doesn't match up. If the story is true he has dropped from the sky, been there long enough to make a promise he clearly never intended to keep and yet he is the one Amy is always expecting.

Rory has been there every day since. He has no phone box, no swimming pool or knowledge about the crack in her wall. All he gives her is himself and it is never going to be enough.

She will always have her head in the clouds and that's okay with him if only he keeps her from tripping up and falling.

"Thanks, Rory," she says with a ghost of the smile he knows she capable of. "You know I couldn't leave you here, don't you?"

She sounds so certain but all Rory sees is the pale face in A and E that nearly did leave him and his insides twist uncomfortably.

Amy is too far gone in her fantasy to notice.

"One day, yeah. Me and you. Best of friends." She smiles and tucks her head into his neck, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Leave it all behind to see the world beyond the duck pond!"

She laughs until she yawns and Rory pulls her closer. He doesn't want her leaving, with or without him. Here, with him, away from the kids at school, their families and various psychiatrists she is safe and he thinks that maybe he can keep her that way.

She's fine, he tells himself as she begins to fall asleep. It's the world that isn't ready for her yet.

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_Thanks for reading! And happy Bonfire Night! Remember to hold your sparklers at the right end, kids._


End file.
